Pavlovian Dog
by sailorhathor
Summary: After dreaming about his role in the next Apocalypse, Dean cannot sleep, and cannot stop thinking about Paul. So he gives him a call. They explore the limits of the empathic connection Paul has forged between them.


**Pavlovian Dog**  
A _Miracles/Supernatural_ Cross-over  
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)

**Chapters:** 1 of 1  
**Rating:** Adult Supervision Suggested for those under 13 for homoerotic overtones and bad language  
**Dates:** Written July-August 2006  
**Summary:** After having a strange dream about his role in the Apocalypse, Dean can't sleep, and can't stop thinking about Paul Callan. What he does about it proves that Dean Winchester may just be too much for Paul to handle. A _Miracles/Supernatural_ cross-over, which slashes Dean Winchester/Paul Callan.  
**Timeline:** Happens after the _Supernatural_ episode "The Benders" and before "Shadow," which moves the _Miracles_ timeline up to 2006.  
**Warning:** Contains spoilers for all of _Miracles_ and _Supernatural_ up to "The Benders." There's a little talk about the Christian religion that's not all favorable.  
**Betas:** Thanks to Meredevachon, KaijaWest, and Heather L. for the excellent, helpful beta reads.  
**Author's Notes:** Follows after "A Distant Voice in the Darkness." Additional notes will be at the end of the story. If you would like to read the NC-17 version of this story instead, go here: dementedstuff .com / miracles/ crosspavlov.htm (remove the extra spaces)  
Just wanted to say for the record that I love Bon Jovi - one of my favorite bands ever. But Dean would eat a band like that for breakfast.  
Fans of _Mystery Science Theatre 3000_ should be on the lookout for a reference. I couldn't resist.

Heading into the Apocalypse. Heading right fucking into the Apocalypse.

Dean somehow knew he was dreaming. But it was one of _those_ dreams. His dreams of Paul. He just knew this; he couldn't say how.

Part of him, the part that was conscious of the fact that he was dreaming, just wanted to wake up. Wake up before he saw anything that he couldn't forget. Things that might be true. Things that he would have trouble telling Paul because they would hurt, because they were explosive. But it was like someone was holding his head on both sides, directing him where to look. Forceful hands. Dean could not fight their control.

Walking down the street. Walking toward the Apocalypse. There were people around him; he could sense them, but could not turn his head to see them because of the controlling hands. They would not be there when this actual incident took place; the hands were only a device of the dream, to tell him LOOK HERE. Dean knew Sammy was there not because he was allowed to see him, but because he could feel him standing close by - Sammy was basically _humming_ with power, like some kind of generator. He'd been practicing. He was _ready_.

Dean felt his head forced down. The item he was carrying, what the hell was it? Could it really be what it looked like? It looked like a goddamn machine gun. A machine gun; where would he get such a thing? The hands, it felt like the fingers had sunk into Dean's temples, pushing on his eyes, and suddenly he could look closer, like supersight, like there was a zoom lens in his eyes. He was able to read an inscription along the barrel of the gun. _'Dean, Kill 'em all. Let God sort 'em out. Love, Brandy (Baby Bear).'_ Brandy was one of his cousins, on his dad's side. Dean had always called her Baby Bear, because she was the baby of the family.

The directing hands pulled his head back up, so he was looking at the scene ahead of them. A man sat at one of the tables of a sidewalk café. Dean could not make out his face. Dark brown hair, dressed well, but Dean could not make out his face. The fingers were pushing on his eyes again, blurring out things they did not want him to see. _Not time yet._

The man?

_Paul's father._

This scene?

_Danielle dreamed of it first._

Who are we?

_Conduits. Protectors. Inner Circle. Outer Circle. They are all made from the same design. You will know them that way. They are precious, those that are left. You must protect them. That is your place in this._

What is this scene?

_An attempt at a distraction. A deal._

Dean's eyes were guided to one side, to see that a woman stood next to Paul's father. There was another person hovering close to the man, but Dean could not make this person out at all. His eyes were focused on the woman.

"You... unimaginable... _bastard_..." said a voice to one side of Dean. He thought it sounded like Keel. Such venom. Such incredulous shock.

And then the pain hit him. Not physical pain. An emotional wall being blown apart. That pain came from Paul. The empathic connection. Paul didn't mean to; the pain and fury just flowed from him like an erupting volcano. It was the woman. The sight of the woman did this to Paul. The shock and disbelief cascaded from him like a fountain.

Like the fountain there, at the sidewalk café. The water flowing from the spigot was turning red. In the pool, the water began to bubble; it was boiling. Boiling with the effort of cooling Paul's rage.

The directing hands shoved Dean's consciousness forward so he could see the woman close up. Her hair was dark. She was pretty. She was familiar. She was

"Theresa!"

Dean partially sat up, finally ripping himself from the dream. He'd whispered this name harshly, though he had no idea who 'Theresa' was. For several moments, Dean stayed frozen like that, breathing hard, before sitting on the edge of the bed to think about what he'd just seen.

"What's the matter?" Sam's sleepy voice said from the next bed, a voice from the dark.

Speaking quietly, Dean replied, "I had a dream. Really disturbing."

"What happened?"

After a pause, he said, "I think it was another one of those real dreams about Paul."

There was noise as Sam sat up quickly, reached over, and turned on the light. They both shielded their eyes and cringed from the sudden assault on their eyes, which were accustomed to the dark. Squinting, Sam said, "What? You haven't had one of those for years, as far as we know. You don't remember any others?"

"No." Dean thought about it for a moment, making sure. "No. This is the first one I remember. It must be that damn letter we found. It triggered this." He fell silent again, thinking.

Sam swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Well, what happened in the dream?"

Dean's gaze remained far off as he related details of the dream. He seemed to be picturing it while he spoke of what he had seen. "This Apocalypse Keel talked about... we were there, helping him and Paul prevent it."

Sam reeled back a little, blinking. "Wow. I could see us doing that, but still, wow."

"We came upon a man sitting at a sidewalk café," Dean continued. "It was Paul's father."

If Sam had reeled before... "Oh my God."

"Yeah."

"What did he look like?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't know. There was this... this force directing what I could see; it wouldn't let me see his face. It sort of blurred my vision. Said it wasn't time yet."

"You heard a voice?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. There was some chick talking to me, answering my questions. That's how I found out it was Paul's father. I didn't recognize the voice." Dean rubbed his face with both hands.

"What else happened?"

"There was a woman standing there, next to the man. Something about her made everyone really mad. Paul absolutely freaked out. Seeing her hurt him... God, _so_ bad. I don't know who she was, except her name was Theresa."

Sam said, "Then what?"

"Then I woke up."

"Can you remember any other details?"

Dean almost shrugged, but then said, "Oh, yeah. I had a machine gun."

"_Machine gun_!" exclaimed Sam.

Nodding, Dean added, "Uhm hm. It was from Brandy. Had an inscription on it that said, 'Kill 'em all, let God sort 'em out,' like the Metallica album. And 'Love, Brandy.' I don't know where she'd get such a thing to give me, but... there it was."

Sam couldn't help it; he started to chuckle heartily. "You know, a machine gun would suit you just fine, Dean. I could see that."

"Can't say it wouldn't kick ass." Thinking about the dream a little longer, Dean remembered the fountain. "There was a fountain in front of the café, too. When Paul got mad, the water in it turned red, like blood. And it started to boil. I don't know how, but, Paul was doing it. It's all really bizarre." Dean paused, then stood up and reached for his jeans, which were laid across the back of a chair.

Sam watched him with confusion. "Are you going somewhere?"

"I can't sleep after this. I need a little time to think about it, wind myself back down. I'm going out to the car to sit and listen to music for a while." Dean thought the jeans and t-shirt he had already put on would be enough; he didn't bother putting on any shoes.

"Okay." A mischievous grin touched Sam's face. "You going to listen to some Bon Jovi?"

As he picked up his car keys, Dean glared at his brother as if he was crazy. "Bon Jovi? No way. I don't listen to pussy rock."

Sam hid a snicker. "But you were listening to power ballads all afternoon. I didn't think Bon Jovi could be that far off."

Dean picked up a shirt draped across the end of his bed, quickly wadded it up, and threw it at Sam. "Eat me, man," he said in irritation, and exited the room with the sound of Sam's snickers following him.

Dean walked across the parking lot about ten feet to the car, being careful not to step on anything sharp in his bare feet. Checking his watch, he noticed it was 12:33AM. The parking lot was dark and deserted, illuminated by some dim streetlights and a big neon hotel sign. Sam did have a point, though, Dean mused as he slid into the driver's seat of the Impala and switched on the radio/tape deck. He _had_ been listening to power ballads ever since they left Boston. Dean just had to admit it - they reminded him of Paul. Love and sex, it was all tied up in Paul now. _Dude, I must be slipping_, Dean thought, selecting a Judas Priest tape. _I just need to get laid by someone who wasn't almost a priest and doesn't leave behind the great smell of Brute._

Despite his efforts, Dean's thoughts wandered back to Paul...

_Scene Removed for Adult Content. Dean called Paul on the phone. Boy are you missing it. Now back to our regularly scheduled genfic._

...He suddenly asked, "Dean, what are we doing?"

There was a pause. "Uh, it's commonly called talking on the phone?"

"No, Dean... what are we _doing_?"

It dawned on him what Paul meant. "The casual sex thing... it isn't something you do much."

"No."

"You usually only have sex within a committed relationship."

"There's some truth in that," Paul confirmed.

"I'm not sure what label to put on what we're doing, if you need one..." Dean sighed; he didn't like having to label his actions. "...but we're enjoying ourselves. And it's not like you're a piece of meat to me. We've established... a connection. A literal connection. You care what happens to me, and I care what happens to you. Can that be enough for you for now?"

_For now._ Did that mean there was more to come? Paul laid his head on his pillow, just thinking. Did he _want_ there to be more to come? He wished he could be sure. "I've never had anything this... much... with a guy before."

"Paul, it's okay. You can call it serious. 'Anything this serious.'"

That made him go quiet again. "I'm just not sure... what to make of it all. I don't know how I've ever rationalized this in line with... my..."

He didn't have to say it; Dean knew what the problem was. "God despises the sin, not the sinner, right?"

Paul closed his eyes and breathed in deep. "Yes. Right."

Dean had never had any idea how Christians lived with all that guilt, all the things that you weren't supposed to do that you couldn't avoid doing. "Then you get your mother's rosary and you do your Hail Marys and whatever else the Father tells you to do, and you're good." He put a casual shrug into his tone.

Paul didn't know how Dean did it, living so free. He still had a lot to learn about Dean Winchester. "I guess."

"Don't worry about it. Let's just go with the flow."

Silent for several more seconds, Paul tried to lighten up for Dean's sake. Dean probably didn't know anymore about what they had here than he did. "So... power ballads, huh?"

"Yeah. I hardly ever break out that tape," Dean laughed.

"Stuff like - " Paul started to sing. "_So now I come to you, with open arms_..." He cracked a couple of the notes; Paul wasn't a horrible singer, but he had never been encouraged to join the choir, either.

Dean, on the other hand... "No, no, more like - " He began to sing in a lilting voice that was quite good. "_Hold me darlin', touch me now. Let the feelings, free tonight. Love is on the way, I can see it in your eyes. Let's give it one more try tonight, baby_..."

At first, Paul was speechless. "Dean... you can _sing_."

Dean scoffed. "Oh please. I sound like somebody who got thrown off _American Idol_. Simon hated me."

"No. No, Dean - you're really good."

Giving in, he accepted the compliment. "Well... maybe I didn't get thrown off the show immediately. Maybe I made it into the top ten."

Paul could hear the joking grin in Dean's tone. "You and Kelly Clarkson, neck and neck."

Dean just chuckled, shaking his head.

"Hey, it could have been worse. You could have been stuck on that really sappy song by that group, Stryper. Some of the kids at the orphanage like that song. 'Honestly'? I like a good inspirational tune as much as the next guy, but the way that woman sings it..."

After a pause, Dean snickered in the back of his throat. "Paul, Stryper's led by a _man_."

"What? You're kidding!"

"Nope."

"What is he, castrated?" Paul asked with sincere disbelief.

Dean leaned to one side to laugh. He figured as long as he was going that way, he'd get into the glove compartment and retrieve some napkins to clean up with. "Stop it, you're killin' me. Besides, I don't listen to Stryper. They're a pussy Christia... uhhh... wussy band."

Now it was Paul's turn to laugh. "I heard that."

"Sorry. I don't really go for the religious bands. But I bet you love wussy bands, don't you Paula?" Dean teased.

"Oh no, that's you. Deanne."

"Paula."

"Nuh uh, I'd be Theresa. Get it right," said Paul with another laugh.

Dean paused, stunned to hear that name again. He swallowed, trying to think of a casual way to play this off. "Theresa? That sounds nothing like Paul. Why do you like that name?"

"My mother was named Theresa."

Speechless, Dean's mind screamed that he had to say something, and soon, or his behavior would alarm Paul. But he'd just said the woman in Dean's dream was his mother! He couldn't tell Paul about this; this was major fucking stuff! Dean had to figure out what it meant before he could tell Paul about that part of it. Otherwise, Paul would just worry himself into an ulcer or some shit like that over something he could not control. Who could possibly know what the dream meant at this stage? "Huh. My mom's name was Mary. Together, they make a nun."

Paul had a hearty laugh over that. "I think we actually had a Sister Mary Theresa at the orphanage. We might've had _two_." His voice shook with his chuckles.

Dean, breathing a sigh of relief, was already trying to decide how much he was going to tell him.

They decided they would talk about the Mothman when Dean got back to Boston, and said their goodbyes. Dean made sure he cleaned up the car really well, then headed back to the hotel room. Sam had fallen asleep again.

The first thing he did was turn on the light and kick the side of Sam's bed. "Wake up, bro."

Sam grumbled, shielding his eyes. "Whaaaat?" he nearly whined.

"I just talked to Paul. My dream was bothering me, so I called him." He paused. "Theresa is his mother."

Sam sat up with a jerk. "Whoa."

"Exactly. So, we gotta talk."

"What about?"

Looking very serious, Dean answered, "About you keeping your mouth shut and letting me decide what Paul's ready to hear and what I should keep to myself for now."

Lying in his bed, Paul gazed up at the ceiling with conflicting thoughts moving heavily through his mind. He'd have to wash these sheets in the morning... how could he keep doing this with Dean? Did he think a thing like that could just go on forever? ...Time to buy a new loaf of bread. Maybe some garlic bread would be good with the pasta he bought on Monday... What happened when the Mothman thing was over? Would Dean leave Boston? Would Paul ever see him again then? Why couldn't he stop wanting this man? Lust for Jason always ended when he got his thoughts together. What was different about Dean? ...Should probably get some milk too.

After an hour of this, Paul finally admitted to himself that he needed someone to talk to. He needed help sorting this out. Keel, no way. Evie, no. Neither of them knew about this even being a possibility. His sex life just wasn't something he discussed with them. Besides, Evie would probably fling Dean across the state if she knew he'd "corrupted" innocent little Paul. Sometimes he really hated how she mothered him, like he was a little boy. But that was just Evie.

Of all the people he could consider, Paul knew there was only one person he could confide in about something like this. Only one person who knew about the other men, who hadn't judged him harshly, who had somehow understood. Someone he could watch trashy talk shows with, because she got a kick out of them too. Someone who'd never teased him about _Little House on the Prairie_ being his favorite TV show.

Well, not much.

One of his few true friends: Georgia.

That being settled, Paul fell asleep with a relieved smile on his face.

Dean's night was not so restful.

**Pavlovian Dog** (c) 2006 Demented Stuff  
**Miracles** (c) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment & Touchstone Television  
**Supernatural** (c) 2005 Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland, & Warner Brothers/The CW Television

Journey "Open Arms" (c) 1981 CBS Inc  
Saigon Kick "Love is on the Way" (c) 1992 Third Stone Records

**Additional Notes:** I've got this whole family worked out for a brother of John's. To Sam and Dean, he'd be Uncle Rob. This particular made-up brother moved to Texas and had a family, raising them there. I named the youngest girl Brandy because I wanted something that evoked the South. I grew up in Texas. Throughout school, I knew about four Brandys over the years, and those were just the ones I knew about. It's a very Southern name. I'm sure some will consider it a bimbo name, but that's not exactly what it evokes for me. Although, the character is a little slutty. XD  
Jensen Ackles is a fairly good singer. Because of this, in my wildest fangirly dreams, Dean will one day sing on _Supernatural_. I don't mean that he starts a singing career like the Brady children. Just that he'd do something like that one episode of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ where Giles was caught singing at a club. I want Dean to be able to sing too! But he just doesn't acknowledge that he can do it much because he's Dean. Dean, belting one out at a club over a few beers? HOT.


End file.
